


Hate To Love You

by OwnerOfAllTears



Category: Peaky Blinders (TV)
Genre: Angst, Arranged Marriage, But also, F/M, Fluff, Forced Marriage, Hate, Hurt, Love, Marriage, angsty tommy shelby, soft Tommy Shelby, tommy never letting go of grace
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-02-07
Updated: 2021-02-07
Packaged: 2021-03-12 08:13:23
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,288
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29257248
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/OwnerOfAllTears/pseuds/OwnerOfAllTears
Summary: Nothing like an arranged marriage to make love blossom
Relationships: Tommy Shelby & Reader, Tommy Shelby/Original Female Character(s), Tommy Shelby/Reader, Tommy Shelby/You
Comments: 5
Kudos: 73





	Hate To Love You

**Author's Note:**

> I am not entirely sure what this is. I had planned to write this only from Tommy’s perspective, then only from reader, but none worked so I mashed the two drafts together. I plan to dig in more in the relationship if the story has good reception

Thomas Shelby hated you. Simple as that.

Or at least, he tried with all his might to hate you. To hate the way you never questioned why he left with the first lights of the morning, and only returned after you had gone to bed. Hate why you didn’t complain about Grace’s pictures and paintings still covering the walls or sitting on his desk. To hate why you never demanded more time and attention of him, like any other young wife in your place would. Why you always found a reason to be happy and sing in the mornings, how you cared for Charlie better than he ever could, how well you got along with his family, and how much you made Arrow House feel like a home for the first time since _she_ left. Tommy hated that he couldn’t make _you_ hate him, couldn’t make you so miserable, turn your life into such a living hell, that you’d just pack up your bags and leave and be free and away from his poison. He hated that you cared for him and managed to tear down his carefully erected walls, one brick at the time.

And most of all, Tommy hated that he’d die inside if you left.

~

The circumstances that brought you two together were less than ideal, far away from a fairy-tale romance. A man who needed a wife, a baby who needed a mother, and two gangs desperately needing an alliance to survive. You handed over to him like a newly bought horse, a shiny new toy that would soon be stained with his dark venom. Too young, too pure, too innocent. Too beautiful. You were the finest figurine of the shelf, while he was just a stone on the road.

Like with many things in his life, it all started in the office. What had begun as a regular business meeting with Frank Blackhawk, head of the infamous Iron Hand, had soon become a matchmaking arrangement. Tommy knew he should have put a stop to everything the moment your father brought the matter into the table. In Frank’s own words, the only way the two gangs could ever consider each other kin would be after Tommy had married you. Not one of his brothers, not his cousin. Your father wanted the great Thomas Shelby as his son in law, or nothing. Needless to say he downright refused, until Polly chimed in to mention they would consider it. Damn the moment he decided to allow her into the meeting.

He should have never let her convince him. He had sworn himself, in his heart that he’d never take a wife again, not for all the gold and power in the world. Not even for an alliance that would make his family unstoppable. But Polly Gray was far more persuasive than what they gave her credit for. Before he realized, a second meeting had been arranged, where Frank brought along his side of the deal; you. The first thing Tommy noticed was that you were young. Far younger than he had anticipated. Under any other circumstances, he would have arranged you wed Finn or Michael; but the deal was clear; the head of the Peaky Blinders and the Blackhawk’s chief jewel would be husband and wife. But how could he, envoy of the Devil, marry you, harmless as a dove? It was downright cruel to tie you to him. When he first shook your hand, he almost flinched at the contrast between the softness of your skin and his coarse palm. When you walked past him, he noticed your hair smelled of roses, neatly styled and pinned back, held under a brown beret. You were styled from head to toe to the latest fashion of the French magazines, and any man with common sense would be proud to have you by his side. Which meant he wanted you even less, not wanting to take that chance away from you; his rejection was his biggest act of kindness.

But what about you? When your father announced that he had already arranged your marriage, you couldn’t find it in yourself to put up a fight and reject the proposal. Almost all of your siblings had already gone down the same path and it was a matter of time before your turn came around. Any attempt to go against his will would result on you being casted out of the family, penniless and alone, with no one daring to help you out of fear of your father’s wrath. For better or worse, it was easier to just accept your fate and make the best out of it.

When you found out who your groom to be was, it came as a great surprise and shock. Four of your six siblings had been wed off to people of high class, children of peers or prominent political figures, in attempts to bring more standing into the family. Your betrothed was the head of an infamous gang who kept his fortune over a perfect balance of legal and illegal business. A man who had been married not too long ago, and whose wife had a most unfortunate demise. All you could hope was to not go down the same path.

When you first met him, his handsomeness and cold demeanour stood out the most to you. Those piercing blue eyes barely brushed over your frame as Thomas and your father discussed dates and the dowry, just like you hadn’t been standing there at all. When he kissed your hand goodbye, the ice in his gaze seemed to soften just enough to show a hint of pity and regret. You didn’t see him again until the engagement party, when he put a beautiful diamond and emerald ring on your finger in front of both of your families. A ring he hadn’t been able to buy himself, delegating the task onto his sister.

In the month prior to the wedding, you two met a few times, encouraged by your parents, to get to know each other better since, in your mother’s words, you would belong entirely to him in four weeks. Every time you were left alone with him, you felt overwhelmed by his masterful presence. He ruled an empire of his own behind that oak desk and clearly not a pin dropped without him noticing. The confidence radiating from this man filled every corner of whatever room he stood in. Yet somehow he didn’t give off the same overbearing and malicious vibe as your father, who always casted a black cloud over his surroundings. You couldn’t exactly pinpoint how you knew, but it was clear as day they had far different morals.

It was also worth noting that every time you were in his company, he behaved like a true gentleman from the stories. He would bring you flowers and presents, open doors and offer you his arm, and would bid you farewell with a kiss on the hand every time without miss. You also didn’t fail to notice how he usually evaded your eyes when you spoke, and how he did his best to maintain the conversation focused on you, only giving short, generic answers to your questions when required. One month passed and you didn’t know Tommy any better than the first day he held your hand.

Tommy loathed himself for actually going through with this madness. He should have run out of the church that windy October, even set up a distraction of some sort to avoid your family’s anger, but the sight of your wedding dress and your coy smile, covered by the most delicate and fine lace, froze him in his spot. The whiteness of your gown, attire of the purest angel he had ever seen, was broken by a magnificent ruby brooch pinned to your neckline like a drop of blood over your heart. That image brought flashbacks into his mind, twisting his heart into a tight, painful knot. By the moment you joined him in the altar, he looked as if a dagger had been driven through his throat, his voice even faltering when he whispered the fateful “I do”. When his trembling hands lifted your veil to place a tender kiss upon your lips, your family erupted in cheers of joy, while his side remained silent and collected, as if they had been attending a funeral. Finn thought it was a shame that such a darling bride would go to a man who would never love her properly. Ada felt like the lamb had just been handed over to the butcher. Polly swallowed down the regret growing inside her, for it would require more than a perfect bride to fix her nephew, and she may have just sacrificed a girl for nothing.

Even the gloom of the Shelbys couldn’t put off the mood of the celebration. With your dad’s blessing and an unlimited budget, you had your perfect dream wedding. The newlyweds arrived in a carriage pulled by two white horses, the ballroom was perfect to the last detail, and the decorations and food on point; the orchestra played your favourite waltz for the first dance, and all your friends and family had a great time. Everything you had ever wanted, minus the perfect groom.

After a two-week honeymoon, gifted by your eldest brother, you finally settled into your new home, still largely dominated by the everlasting presence of the late wife. You found out, through one of Tommy’s outburst on the phone, that during the time you were away in the continent his aunt and sister came and finally emptied his bedroom of Grace’s belongings, which had been sitting there since day one. You also realized the bedroom you two shared wasn’t the same one he had shared with her. Tommy couldn’t bear to sleep in that room again, not with another woman in his bed.

It took time, and effort, but you managed to work out somewhat of a family life with what you were given. Days mostly filled with Charlie, horses, and dwelling on whatever new hobby caught your interest that week. Days seeing your husband barely the minimum, while also visiting and bonding his family almost daily, always bringing good conversation and a good drink. Slowly and steadily learning on how the Shelbys kept the business running, although never from your husband’s lips.

It pained Tommy to admit how he had grown to enjoy, and even crave your presence. That aura of peace you brought into every room you stepped in, the way you always had to keep your hands busy, how you never felt the need to fill in every space of silence with meaningless conversation. He loved it, while also wanting so badly to be able to hate it, for very inch he grew closer to you was an inch he got away from Grace’s ghost, another step towards finally closing that chapter and burying the pain. In his eyes, these feelings for you were a betrayal to her memory, and were getting harder and harder to fight off every day, no matter how desperately he tried. 

He did his best to despise how you’d leave a glass of water on his bedside after too much whiskey, and always fixed the collar of his shirt and straightened out his tie. How your soft fingers ran along his scalp when he had nightmares he never told you about, and the way you just hugged him when he was most vulnerable, without asking. Just as if Tommy had been the love of your life, and not just a stranger you had to marry for the sake of peace.

Tommy never knew how, but after some eight months into the marriage these intense feelings grew bigger and stronger and uncontrollable, and he couldn’t fight them back no more. Not even all his might could keep the door to his heart closed, and he had to admit to himself that he was hopelessly in love with you. Once he came to terms with the fact that moving on didn’t mean forget, he could finally allow himself to move forward and find his own version of happiness, for not everything in this world was grim.

~

This was one of the moments he looked forward the most at the end of the long work days. He sitting on a loveseat, cigarette dangling from his lips and the whiskey perched on his hand, basking in the merry warmth from the fireplace. Your legs across his lap, nose buried in the pages of a novel, sipping a steaming cup of tea. His cold hand on your thigh, his thumb rubbing soft circles on the exposed skin where the robe had slipped off. Charlie was tucked in his bed, and the maids had been dismissed for the night to give you some privacy. He dwelled on the glow of the fire on your skin, your perfect hands curled around the little cup, how your eyebrows scrunched and rose with every reaction the story triggered in you. For how long he stared, admiring you, he didn’t know. At some point, your eyes drifted from the lines towards him, a glint of playfulness sparking in them, a half-smile tugging your cherry lips. His cheeks tinted red, like they always did when he was caught watching you. But he just couldn’t help it. You were his biggest treasure.

 _“Is there something wrong?”_ The book was discarded on a side table, your body scooting closer until your fingers could touch his face.

Tommy smiled, something rare in him, but wonderful in every way. He brought your hands to his lips and kissed them, just like the first day.

_“Nothing. Everything is perfect”_


End file.
